


Mana Transfer

by GlyphArchive



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Mana Transfer, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-02-01 00:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21301442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlyphArchive/pseuds/GlyphArchive
Summary: A human Master can only produce so much energy and dividing it between multiple Servants is not always efficient.
Relationships: Ashwatthama | Archer/Arjuna Alter | Berserker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Mana Transfer

“You have no need to worry.” Berserker, Juna – whatever Ha-Rin has decided to call him – says in that soft, dispassionate voice he has that grates on Ashwatthama’s nerves. “I am capable of withstanding your strength.”

“That ain’t what I’m thinkin’ about.” Ashwatthama growls from behind his teeth. His tone doesn’t halt Juna’s progress at all, those hands with their blue-painted nails easily find the folds of his _dhoti_ and slip in. Berserker’s hands are cool and he jumps at the first touch exploring the frame of his hips, the tops of his thighs, his cock.

It feels necessary to bite out a low “watch it”, but Juna’s expression doesn’t change.

But his lashes do sweep low, obscuring the darkness of his eyes and that’s something purely _Arjuna_ and not any god that Ashwatthama knows of.

He scowls a little as the cold air of Chaldea touches him when Berserker eases his length free, heat blooming across the back of his neck when Juna studies it almost thoughtfully for a second.

“If ya don’t wanna get mana from m- “ The words die in Ashwatthama’s mouth, becoming strangled when Juna leans up on his knees and runs his tongue over the tip of him. _Tasting_ is the word that comes to mind, when Ashwatthama can think of it. That or testing, like he’d been the first time he’d done anything like this.

Juna glances up at him, mouth parted and his hand supporting the shaft of his cock and it makes Ashwatthama’s senses cloud a little more with how intense that stare is.

And then, because Arjuna is _still_ a bastard even when he claims to be someone else, he turns and takes what his hand isn’t holding into his mouth with the sort of impassive leisure that _has_ to be deliberate. Ashwatthama forces himself to breathe and not immediately curse, surprised and not that Juna keeps going; free hand curling around the top of his thigh and lightly bearing down, like he’s warning Ashwatthama not to move.

“This ain’t about fuckin _showing off_, ya prick.” Ashwatthama grumbles, shifting his weight so that his knees _won’t_ lock and send him eventually crumbling to the floor like an idiot. Sure enough, Juna’s hand flexes lightly over his thigh – more like kneading at the moment than threatening to tear a part of him off. He’s about to say something else, something along the lines of _slow down_ or maybe _you’re gonna hurt yourself doing that_ when Berserker’s tongue flicks over the head of his cock again before slowly tracing an inquisitive trail over his shaft.

A tremble moves up his knees and continues on, turning the pit of his stomach hot and tense with just that. Leaning back against the lip of this room’s Chaldea-issued desk helps steady him a little as he growls a curse under his breath, one hand bracing on the desk and the other easing between Berserker’s horns to lay against dark hair. Juna draws back, glancing up through his fringe to look at him and holds Ashwatthama’s stare when he slowly goes down again.

A corner of Ashwatthama’s mouth twitches, torn between a sneer or a frown. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, being stared down like that. For all the calculating nature of it there’s still something _curious_ about it.

“Just can’t resist makin’ everything a competition, can ya?” Ashwatthama doesn’t expect an answer, raking short blunt nails over Berserker’s scalp lightly when he tightens his grip on dark hair and rolls his hips into the warmth of Juna’s mouth. Not hard – because he’s not a fuckin asshole, but he does get a little thrill of satisfaction from how Berserker’s features shift with surprise. Cool fingers still marked with callouses from archery flex over his thigh and hip, holding on when Ashwatthama slowly thrusts into his mouth again.

Juna’s tail moved, briefly lashing to the side in what Ashwatthama thinks might be irritation. Or maybe not, because it curls up close by Berserker’s leg a moment later; the sensitive ends flicking as Juna shifts on his knees, tightening his lips as he goes down again to meet Ashwatthama’s pace. His hand parts the fabric of Ashwatthama’s _dhoti_ a little more, easing between his legs to cup his balls.

_“fuck.”_ Heat licks its way up his spine when that soft touch became deliberate, slowly massaging sensitive flesh. Ashwatthama leaned forward, fingers digging into the desk when Berserker lightly pressed on the spot behind his sac; hips jerking reflexively when he didn’t stop. Juna let out a soft, breathless sound in response; the heat of his mouth tightening around Ashwatthama’s shaft.

He didn’t look so _detached_ any longer, eyes shut as he bobbed his head slowly; the slightest tinge of color filling his cheeks as his brows furrowed a little. When Berserker drew back his lips were wet, parted to let his tongue tease the underside of Ashwatthama’s shaft until it circled the head. His hand continued moving inside Ashwatthama’s _dhoti_ as he lapped at the tip of Ashwatthama’s cock.

Ashwatthama pressed down on the back of Juna’s head, pulse hammering in his throat. “Quit yer teasin’. We ain’t got all day for ya to _prove_ something like a jackass.”

“You’re trembling.” Juna pointed out, voice slightly hoarse. The hand that had been occasionally kneading Ashwatthama’s thigh moved, resting on his unarmored knee as Berserker adjusted himself. Something warm touched Ashwatthama’s ankle and drew his gaze from Juna’s hazy eyes. He caught a glimpse of the cloth of Juna’s white _dhoti_ straining between his legs, before realizing it was Berserker’s tail carefully winding itself around his leg that he was feeling.

“Wonder whose fault _that_ is.” He shot back, tugging lightly on Berserker’s hair.

A soft hitch in Juna’s breath cut off the rest of what he’d planned to say, reprimand sticking to the roof of his mouth when Berserker’s lashes fluttered and he shuddered; tail flexing around Ashwatthama’s calf. Ashwatthama stared, a smile slowly quirking his mouth as Juna let his head lull back into Ashwatthama’s hand; blinking dazedly up at him as though he’d lost the ability to think for a moment.

“You’ll get yours.” Ashwatthama said lowly, watching him try and collect himself; amused despite the arousal clawing at him. “Soon as you finished what ya started. Think you can last that long?”

Juna blinked, studying him through the fall of his lashes before slowly straightening up; pads of his fingers gently resuming their massage between Ashwatthama’s legs. “Yes.”

Good, Ashwatthama thought as he bit back a groan; unable to string enough words together before Berserker’s mouth brushed over his cock again, leaving barely-there kisses down his shaft until he reached the base. He worked his way back up just as slowly, occasionally flicking his tongue out to trace a vein and feel Ashwatthama shift restlessly in response. Pausing at the head once again Juna glanced up at him, the faintest suggestion of a smile quirking his lips for a second. Then he raised himself up a little more, taking Ashwatthama’s length into his mouth; going down as far as he could while his tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft, the hand that had been resting on Ashwatthama’s knee curling around what Juna couldn’t fit in his mouth and stroking warm flesh in time with the bob of his head.

Sparks danced up Ashwatthama’s spine at the feeling, distracting him as Juna’s hand eased further back from his balls; fingers curling just so that when he pressed down against the bundle of nerves it drew a cry from Ashwatthama’s mouth, then hand in his hair tightening as Ashwatthama’s hips jerked. Prepared for it this time he relaxed his throat, circling that spot deliberately as he curled his tongue and tightened the ring of his lips.

_“fucking – “_ Ashwatthama’s tone darkened, hips snapping up reflexively. His nails scraped over Juna’s scalp as he forced his fingers to relax, to not pull too hard on messy tresses as he thrust into the warmth of Juna’s mouth. “Did that on _purpose_ didn’t you – “

He cut himself off as Juna _hummed_ around his length, adjusting his pace to keep up with Ashwatthama as he moved. That or perhaps the sly press of calloused fingers against that bundle of nerves set him off, losing the rhythm he’d had before. Heat coiled low in his belly as he tensed, shuddering as he came. Juna stiffened as he did, straining a little under the pressure of his hand until Ashwatthama eased off and let him draw back.

“Mana transfer complete.” Juna barely heard himself say it, blood rushing in his ears; scalp tingling where Ashwatthama had tugged slightly too much. Blinking past the haze settling across his vision he ducked his head, cleaning the last traces of fluid that he’d missed from Ashwatthama’s length.

“Stop that.” Ashwatthama grunted, shifting under the touch of his tongue; nudging Berserker away with his leg. Sitting up from the lip of the desk he narrowed his eyes, watching Berserker shift unconsciously on his knees. Juna’s tail still clung to his other leg, warm and heavy. As he watched Juna’s lower lip disappeared between his teeth briefly, like he was stifling himself.

“C’mere.” Reaching out he drew Juna up to his feet and tugged him close, letting Berserker settle between his legs. Juna leaned in without prompting, lips brushing Ashwatthama’s briefly. He didn’t resist when Ashwatthama buried a hand in his hair and cupped the back of his head, keeping him still as he kissed back. Ashwatthama’s free hand eased between them, parting Juna’s _dhoti_ and curling rough fingers around his cock; stroking him from base to tip slowly.

He shuddered, letting his eyes fall closed and leaning into Ashwatthama’s warmth; kissing back somewhat messily, taking advantage of Ashwatthama’s parting lips and ease his tongue between them and explore Archer’s mouth. Ashwatthama’s teeth bore down on his tongue in warning, nowhere near hard enough to cause pain but drawing a surprised groan from him all the same. The fingers in his hair drew back, following the curve of his neck and spine down to his tail, stroking the ridges of armored flesh without fear as he came; rocking his hips into Ashwatthama’s palm heedlessly.

“Fuckin’ _messy_ is what you are.” Ashwatthama groused when their mouths parts, tone lacking any real heat as he supported Juna through the aftermath; easing his hand free to clean the fluid from it with his tongue. His nose wrinkled at the taste, but he didn’t say anything as Berserker laid his forehead against his shoulder; waiting for Juna’s breath to even out. “That better?”

“Yes.” Juna mumbled against his skin, still trembling a little. “That should suffice for now.”

Ashwatthama snorted above his head, wiping excess moisture off his hand with his _dhoti_. _“Berserkers.”_ He grumbled, low enough that Juna could only just hear him. “Can’t store mana for shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for my s/o, posted with their permission. Ha-Rin is their character.


End file.
